


lost in confusion (found in conversation)

by aliaaaaaa



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Idiots in Love, Love Confession, M/M, Miscommunication, Mutual Pining, Newt Being Stubborn, Percival Graves is Bad at Expressing Himself, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-20
Updated: 2017-07-20
Packaged: 2018-12-04 10:23:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11553225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aliaaaaaa/pseuds/aliaaaaaa
Summary: Newt Scamander is convinced that Percival Graves hates him. That his very presence in MACUSA as the Magical Beasts Consultant actually annoys the Director so much that whenever he sees Newt, he starts to nag.





	lost in confusion (found in conversation)

**Author's Note:**

> hello again!
> 
> I didn't expect to actually write something for this pairing so soon, but I was talking to [Pepper](https://gramanderpost.tumblr.com/) over on tumblr how Percival Graves is really bad at expressing himself thus this happened. 
> 
> It's something light and I hope you will enjoy this as much as I had fun writing this.
> 
> this has been proof-read by [Anna](http://joesmazzello.tumblr.com/). all mistakes are mine.

 

To put it very precisely, Percival Graves is an eloquent speaker.

He has to be, because part of his duty as Director of Magical Law Enforcement is to be able to persuade and argue his points, be it when facing the higher ups in the International Confederation of Wizards meeting, or staring down criminals to extract important information that could be used to solve important cases.

It’s common knowledge that Percival Graves not only speaks of his own agenda, but also on behalf of MACUSA and the Madame President too.

He has proven time and time again to the wizarding world that he has ways with words when he stands tall in front of the powerful wizards and witches and delivers his speeches, conveying his points clearly and confidently; making sure that all of the important matters are being addressed without any interference from the foreign powers.

Thus, expressing himself shouldn’t be difficult at all.

Except, it is.

Especially when it is regarding _feelings._

He doesn’t know how to express himself, especially to those he cares about. Instead of gentle words and soft reminders, Percival Graves _nags_.

He nags when he cares about someone or something.

It’s the Graves’ curse. He is sure of it. His parents were not ones to gently reprimand him whenever he did something wrong, instead they nagged until his ears turned red, they nagged until he had corrected his mistakes; his Grandmother said that it was the way of the Graves.

He supposes that tough love is much better than being ignored altogether by his parents, and growing up, it was the only form of love that he was accustomed to.

Still, all the tough love treatment didn’t turn him into a stone. He is still capable of loving. A fact that he is forever grateful of; that despite his stoic upbringing, he is still able to care about the people he is fond of.

These people include his Aurors. All of them, no matter how foolish they are sometimes, and how they seem determined to cause him to die before he turns fifty.

And when he cares, he nags. About the quality of their reports, about the state of their appearances, about their impertinent way of not following his rules and regulations during raids.

Percival Graves is a perfectionist, he is good at what he does and he expects the same thing from his subordinates. His Aurors know this. They’ve been at the receiving end of his nagging too many times to know that he cares about them.

Like that time when Fontaine accidentally blew up a dummy during dueling practice because she was distracted. Percival Graves chewed her out in his office for an hour and the others could hear him hollering about staying focused or dying because of the lack of concentration.

Fontaine left the office with a blotchy face and teary eyes, trying her very best not to cry in front of her colleagues. They all thought that Fontaine would quit afterwards and the rumor was flying high because Fontaine didn’t come to work for the next week.

But then on Monday, she came to the office; smiling and looking happy.

It turned out Mr. Graves gave her a five day paid-leave to visit her sick mother. That was why she couldn’t concentrate when she was at work, because she was worried about her family.

So it’s no longer a secret that Percival Graves is actually a softie at heart. That when Mr. Graves nags, it means that he cares; that for all of his yelling, he means well.

Except Newt Scamander doesn’t think that way.

He is convinced that Percival Graves hates him. That his very presence in MACUSA as the Magical Beasts Consultant actually annoys the Director so much that whenever he sees Newt, he starts to nag.

And there is already a long list of Mr. Graves’ favorite topics whenever he sees Newt.

  * His inability to keep his creatures in the suitcase.



> "Morgana's sagging tits! This is the fifth times the little thief escaped your suitcase and robbing the office blind! Are you that incapable of keeping your creatures safe in that suitcase or do you actually enjoy unleashing the terror that you so fondly call "Princess" just because it amuses you, Mr. Scamander?"

  * His unkempt appearance.



> "Mr. Scamander, you have lovely curls of coppery-brown hair but Tituba's bare legs, you need to learn to keep up with the current style. I'll be happy to share my pomade with you. And if you allow me, I can take you to my favorite tailor so you can buy new jacket."

  * His general awkwardness when he is dealing with people.



> "Would it kill you to stand tall because when you hunch, you look like a giant with a bad backache. And it's rude to stare at the floor when someone is talking to you."

Frankly, he thinks Graves is abusing his power as the Director to intimidate people and make them feel bad about their shortcomings, but even so, Newt doesn’t care what Percival thinks of him.

His beasties are more important to him than some meaningless human relationship. Newt can deal with all of the nagging. He is used to this kind of unfavorable treatment after so many years of receiving it in England.

He won’t be staying long in MACUSA anyway, so there is no need to impress Percival Graves. He just needs to convince MACUSA to reassess their Creature Laws and do his job as a Consultant as well as he can.

Except, Percival Graves thinks he cannot handle himself when he’s out in the field.

And _that_ doesn’t sit well with Newt because he’s an adult for Merlin’s sake! He can take care of himself! But no! The high and mighty Percival Graves thinks that Newt is reckless, and he has the self-preservation skills of a Dodo, which by the way, is an excellent bird with great self-preservation skills because it can apparate and disapparate on a whim if it finds itself in danger!

Which is something Newt is good at as well! He’s been traversing the world and camping out in thick jungles and he has survived each and every expedition with only a few wounds and scars from agitated creatures. But that’s the only hazard that comes with being a Magizoologist.

But Mr. Graves thinks that Newt is not only risking his life, but also putting the Aurors in serious jeopardy when he defies Mr. Graves’ order to stay put and wait for his command before barging in to save the creatures.

He really cannot wait because he knows the creatures are in distress and the more time spent waiting means that the chances of the creatures surviving are slowly diminishing.

Which is why in the middle of the intense duel between the Aurors and the smugglers, Newt apparates inside the dingy warehouse; so focused on the low, wounded sound of the Wampus that’s trapped inside a small, narrow cage, that he doesn’t realize there’s someone inside the warehouse, watching his every move. He only notices the man when he’s being hit with a spell that causes his skin to feel like it’s burning off of his flesh.

The last thing he remembers before he collapses is Mr. Graves’ voice yelling his name, and it’s funny because he sounds just as pained as the wounded Wampus.

So maybe Percival Graves is correct in his assessment about Newt being an idiotic and reckless person. But that doesn’t mean he appreciates every time Mr. Graves has pointed that out to him during the last thirty minutes of his nagging.

Really, the man must have an excellent healer to help him combat the high-blood pressure. There is no way the man has not been diagnosed with hypertension because Newt is convinced that the veins on his neck are about to pop.

“Are you even listening to me?”

Newt flicks his eyes briefly towards Mr. Graves’ face before he looks back at the windowless wall of the sterile hospital ward. “Dully,” he answers tiredly, because he _is_ tired from listening to Graves talking about his incompetency and inability to be a team player and how he could have died if Graves hadn’t swooped in just in time to save him.

“Mr. Scamander,” Mr. Graves’ sighs and Newt bites his lip because he knows that disappointed tone all too well. He’s heard it from Theseus enough to last him a lifetime and he doesn’t need to hear it from Mr. Graves too because Mr. Graves is a stranger; he’s a nobody so his opinion and his expectations of him don’t matter.

Except it does.

He cares so much about what Percival Graves thinks about him that he feels guilty when he sees the sad, disappointed look in Mr. Graves’ eyes whenever he looks at him.

“Mr. Scamander… _Newt_ ,” Mr. Graves says, and Newt turns his face the other way because he doesn’t need the pity. “I’m not disappointed in you. I’m worried.”

Right. Legilimens. He forgot about that.

“I’m sorry for making you worried. I know it’s foolish of me to put your Aurors in danger like that. I didn’t think about their safety,” Newt apologizes, voice sounding brittle.

“Newt…” Mr. Graves says, hand reaching out to touch, but he stops midway when Newt flaps it away.

“I understand that you see me as a nuisance. I know that very well myself. If MACUSA feels that they no longer require my service after this, then I fully understand.”

Mr. Graves rubs his face until his perfect eyebrows go awry. He looks exhausted. Newt notices the bruises underneath his eyes and he feels terrible about that. About dragging Percival Graves away from his rest just because Newt was too selfish to follow a simple order.

“Newt, you’re not _listening_ ,” Mr. Graves sighs and before he can explain further, there’s a knock on the door, and when they both look towards the sound; Tina is standing at the entrance, telling Mr. Graves that Madame President is requesting his presence back in the office.

Newt watches Mr. Graves nod his head to Tina, then gather his coat and scarf, and only then does Newt realize how wrinkly Mr. Graves’ shirt looks, how unkempt his hair is, like he’s been running his fingers through it.

“I’ll come by later,” Mr. Graves promises and Newt nods his head at him and raises his unbandaged hand to wave at Tina.

After that he tries to sleep but his thoughts are too jumbled up and noisy. No matter what he does, his mind always jumps back to Percival Graves, and how tired the man looks and how Newt feels absolutely terrible about the whole situation.

Mr. Graves must have hated him even more now for not being able to keep himself safe.

“Oh honey,” a voice says, startling Newt out of his musings, and when he turns his face towards the door, he sees Queenie in all of her soft pink glory bouncing into the room.

“But it’s true, isn’t it? He hates me,” Newt murmurs miserably, clutching at his pillow to hide his face, not even upset that Queenie heard his thoughts.

Instead of answering, she conjures up a chair from the thin air and with another wave of her wand, there’s a pot of hot tea waiting for her to pour into the two waiting cups. She gives one to Newt and urges him to take a sip. When he does, she sits down and drinks her tea leisurely, as if they are at a tea party instead of Newt’s pity party in the hospital ward.

“Stop that,” Queenie chides and Newt looks away guiltily. “He never pities you."

“He hates me.”

Queenie leans back in her chair and lets her cup float in the air while she studies Newt.

“How should I put this so it could go through your head?” Queenie wonders aloud and Newt glances at her. “He cares a lot about you, honey.”

Newt narrows his eyes at Queenie in total disbelief because he knows it’s not true.

“It’s the truth. I swear,” Queenie continues. “The first time that you were out on a raid, he paced the floor of his office until he exhausted himself so much that he unconsciously lowered his mind shield for me to hear his thoughts.”

Newt looks at Queenie, and sees her smile.

“You know what he was thinking about?”

Newt shakes his head, curious now.

“He thought about you. About your safety. How he hoped that you’re not going to do anything recklessly stupid because you know what, honey?” Queenie whispers conspiratorially, leaning in closer until Newt can smell her sweet perfume. “If something bad happens to you, Mr. Graves will never forgive himself for not protecting you.”

Queenie leans back, a big grin adorning her face as Newt looks at her with a gobsmacked expression. “Why do you think he insisted on going on raids with you even when he’s the Director? Why do you think he sends in his finest senior Aurors to go with you when he can’t join you, hmm?”

Newt frowns because there’s no way Percival Graves cares so much about him that he is ready to ditch his duty as a Director to accompany Newt to… what? Take care of him?

“You know he does. He wants to take care of you,” Queenie insists.

“Because he thinks I’m stupid and I have no concept of self-preservation whatsoever!” Newt argues back.

“Well, he’s not wrong,” Queenie mumbles, sipping her tea.

“Queenie!” Newt growls and Queenie giggles, throwing her head back until her golden curls are swaying prettily.

“You know Newt, I’d never have pegged you as someone who is stubborn but I see it now when you refuse to believe that Mr. Graves is capable of being nice, that he is not as stoic and as bad as you painted him to be,” Queenie observes carefully and Newt looks away from her knowing gaze, too weak to even put up a decent mind block to prevent his thoughts about Percival Graves from oozing out.

“He nags a lot about unnecessary things. It’s irritating,” Newt mumbles.

“But you still want to impress him even when you say you don’t care. Why is that?”

Newt keeps quiet, doesn’t know how to tell Queenie that as much as he doesn’t prefer the man to nag, he knows that Mr. Graves means well, especially when he nags about keeping his creatures safely inside the case. Because he knows that as much as Mr. Graves wants to keep the city safe, he also cares about the well-being of the creatures; the danger that they could be in if they’re wandering around freely in the city.

He knows this.

Yet he keeps trying to push the man’s buttons to see how long he can go before he snaps, and Newt is ashamed of his childish behavior, but he can’t help it. It’s better this way, to make Mr. Graves hate him, to make Mr. Graves realize that he is just a nuisance.

That way, he can protect his heart from another heartbreak; his heart that beats faster every time he sees Percival Graves around.

When he looks at Queenie, the witch quirks her perfectly shaped eyebrow at him; a knowing smile on her face when Newt feels his cheeks turning pink. His thoughts are loud enough for Queenie to pick up that he is attracted to Mr. Graves and that is why he wants to simultaneously impress and push the man away.

“There’s nothing to be ashamed of, honey,” Queenie reassures kindly.

“I’m not ashamed,” Newt answers. “I just don’t understand why he still cares so much even when I’ve been a right brat.”

“Why don’t you ask him?”

Newt narrows his eyes at Queenie who grins impishly at him. “You know something.”

“Hmm, maybe,” Queenie teases as she waves her wand, causing the teapots and cups to vanish into thin air. “But it’s not my secret to tell. So you need to ask him yourself.”

Newt pouts but it doesn’t deter Queenie from leaning down to kiss his greasy hair.

“Now be a good boy and listen properly to Mr. Graves, okay?”

Newt rolls his eyes but mumbles out a “Yes, Mom.” when Queenie gives him a look. With that Queenie sashays away, hoping that Mr. Graves and Newt would finally talk things out like adults and stop feeling miserable over each other.

 

* * *

 

Mr. Graves doesn’t visit him in the hospital again.

He heard it from O’Brien, who came to pick him up from the hospital, that the Senior Aurors team is busy with the Second Salamers case.

Newt thinks it’s for the best, not having Mr. Graves visit him again. That way he can stop himself from hoping. Really, he doesn’t want to know, nor he is curious about the reason why Percival Graves cares so much about him.

He lasts about a day and a half before his curiosity gets the best of him. And he’s glad that his small office is far from Queenie, otherwise he would never hear the end of how he tried to ignore Percival Graves and failed spectacularly.

Pickett chirps from inside his pocket and Newt shushes him.

With the excuse of wanting to thank Mr. Graves for saving his life, Newt walks through the Aurors’ den, realizing that it’s already after office hours and only a few of the Aurors are in; their heads bend down as they busy themselves with their work, ignoring Newt as he steadily makes his way towards the Director’s office.

He knows Mr. Graves is still around because his door is ajar, and when he pokes his head through the wide space he sees three documents hanging around Mr. Graves’ head demanding his attention.

When he steps in after a soft knock on the door, Mr. Graves looks up from his report and Newt is taken aback by the soft, tired smile gracing his face, and it makes his heart skip a beat.

Like it does every time he looks at the infuriatingly handsome man.

“Newt!” The man greets. “I see that you’re looking better.”

Newt nods his head and moves to stand in front of the desk. “I still need to wear the bandage for another three days, and they gave me this vile potion that tastes like rotten cheese,” Newt informs, a look of disgust crossing his face.

Mr. Graves chuckles quietly, and Newt feels the tips of his ears turning hot because he sounded like a five year old whining. He chances a look and sees that Mr. Graves has stopped working and is now watching him with the same sad, disappointed look in his eyes.

Something in his chest twisted, because there’s no way someone as perfect as Percival Graves would want to waste his time with him.

Still, he tries, because no matter what lies he told himself, he _is_ curious.

“Mr. Graves… _Percival_ ,” Newt starts and there’s a soft sharp intake of breath from the man, but Newt soldiers on before he loses his courage. “I would like to thank you for saving me back in the warehouse, and I also would like to apologize for inconveniencing you and the others with my thoughtless actions. I’m sorry for disappointing you,” Newt ends his short apology, his head bowing down, waiting for the nagging to start.

But Mr. Graves keeps quiet instead, and the silence is worse than any of the yelling because it’s oppressive and cloying and it’s making Newt uncomfortable and he wants to Apparate out of the office, only it’s rude and there’s a ward preventing him from doing so.

There’s a squeak of leather and a soft murmur of “Newton Artemis Fido Scamander.”

When Newt looks up, the man is already making his way to where Newt is standing. “You are a menace, and you sidestep the laws like they don’t mean anything to you. You are reckless, and you have a fiery temper when it comes to protecting the magical beasts,” Mr. Graves drawls lazily and Newt glares at the Director because as much as he prefers the nagging over the silence, it still infuriates him.

He wants to argue. He is _ready_ to argue but Mr. Graves is shushing him and he chews his lip to stop himself from cursing the man.

“You need to listen and you need to listen well,” Mr. Graves chides, and he’s standing right in front of Newt now, leaning back against his desk, his arms folded over his chest. “Even when you defied my order, it wasn’t enough to cause me to be disappointed in you. I just want you to stop injuring yourself. That’s all.”

Newt glances at the man, holds his sharp gaze and blurts out, “Why do you care so much if I’m injured? Why do you care about me?”

There, it’s out from his chest now and no matter what the reason, Newt is prepared.

“Someone has to, because you don’t care about yourself.”

_“Excuse me?”_

Mr. Graves dips his face a bit to look at Newt through his eyelashes, and Newt thinks he looks pretty like this, and he’s very much hoping that his mind shield is sturdy enough to stop that thought from being broadcasted.

“You are so concerned with putting the creatures first that you forget to take care of yourself. You charge headlong without thinking of your own safety and it frustrates me because I can’t always be there to protect you, Newt,” Mr. Graves nags and Newt pouts.

“Pickett was quite distressed when you were injured. He kept slapping your face with his tiny branch and I was afraid he might cut you,” Mr. Graves explains. “I had to keep him in my pocket when the healers were tending you, and even then he kept chattering and trying to escape to go to you. We had to keep him inside the case.”

Newt didn’t know this.

He only knew that when he woke up, Pickett was nowhere near him, and Tina had been taking care of his case while he was healing up in the hospital.

“Thank you for taking care of Pickett, but I can assure you that I’ve managed myself just fine for years and what happened back in the warehouse was just a slight miscalculation on my part,” Newt responds, tapping his pocket to make sure that Pickett is there.

Mr. Graves closes his eyes, heaves a heavy sigh, and Newt knows that he’s being stubborn again; that he refuses to understand what Mr. Graves is trying to convey.

“You infuriate me in the best and worst ways possible. You make my blood pressure go up every time you’re out on the field. Yet, I cannot seem to make myself forget about you because…” Mr. Graves trails off and there’s something new in his eyes now; instead of the sad look, he’s looking at Newt with something akin to fondness.

“Because?” Newt prompts, impatient to know the reason now, and there’s a hopeful feeling bubbling underneath his skin that’s making him flush with excitement.

“Because I am attracted to you, and your enthusiasm, and your stubbornness, and your soft smile, and your bright eyes, and your kind heart. I don’t want you to lose any of that, Newt. So please. If you don’t want to take care of yourself on my behalf, take care of yourself for the sake of your creatures,” Percival explains softly, as if he wants Newt to really understand.

Newt blinks his eyes and inhales noisily, the realization finally dawning on him that Queenie Goldstein wasn’t pulling his leg when she told him that Percival Graves cares about him. That this man, who is the personification of perfection, has feelings for him, and that all of his nagging isn’t meant to be as cutting as it is.

Newt does what he always feels like doing whenever Mr. Graves starts to nag.

He punches the Director’s arm. Hard. Ignoring the man’s pained yelp.

“You’re attracted to me yet all you ever do is nag at me, to the point that I was convinced that you hated me!” Newt yelled heatedly, glaring at Mr. Graves when the man rolls his eyes.

"How many times should I tell you that I don’t hate you?!”

“Well you nag a lot!”

“That’s how I show that I care!"  
  
“It was the worst way to show someone that you care! Admit it!” Newt points his finger accusingly, feeling triumphant when he sees Mr. Graves’ face pinken in embarrassment.

“I have to admit that my method is not desirable,” Mr. Graves says, rubbing the back of his neck gingerly. “But it works. Most of the time. Except on you because you’re so stubborn and you refuse to listen to me.”

“If you’ve said something worth listening to then I can assure you I’m all ears, but you keep on badgering me about my appearance and my lack of social skills, so I chose to ignore all the negative comments you made towards me,” Newt counters, folding his arms and looking away from Mr. Graves in a sulky manner.

“I’m sorry if you feel hurt by my callous remarks, Newt. It wasn’t my intention to make you feel bad,” Mr. Graves apologizes, and Newt looks at the man who is looking at him with soft eyes and a fond expression, and he feels something in him crumbling at this sight.

“You have a lot to make up for your callous remarks because I’ve been losing sleep over them,” Newt suggests and Mr. Graves nods his head, looking guilty, and Newt wants to gather him in his arms and tells him that it’s fine, that he knows Mr. Graves means well, but he doesn’t want to be _that_ easy.

“Besides, you need to learn the proper way to show someone that you care, Mr. Graves.”

“Well then, Mr. Scamander, how do you suggest I show someone that I care?” Mr. Graves asks, a flirty smirk on his face that makes Newt’s cheeks turn a shade redder, because he knows the ball is now in his court. Mr. Graves has told him that he is attracted to Newt and as much as it baffles him, he still wants this.

So he takes a deep breath, grabs a fistful of Percival’s shirt, pulls him in until they’re only inches apart and, with one sly look at the Director’s face, he whispers, “Like this.”  
  
Newt kisses him; soft and slow and gentle. A shy brush of lips against lips, their breath mingling together, and Newt thinks he can get used to this, shutting Percival Graves up with kisses when he starts to nag.

When they pull apart Mr. Graves is smiling at him, looking a bit dazed but still with that satisfied expression on his face. “So, I should kiss all of my Aurors like this before they go out on field duty?”

“No! You’re forbidden to kiss anyone like this except for me!” Newt argues, and he hits Mr. Graves’ arm when the man laughs at him.

And because Percival Graves is a sly human being, he nuzzles Newt’s neck and whispers, “Show me again how I should show you that I care.”

And with a smile on his face, and a warm feeling in his chest, Newt does; again and again and again.

 

**Author's Note:**

> if you have reached this point, thank you so much for reading! kudos and comment are really much appreciated!
> 
> find me on [auroargraves](http://auroargraves.tumblr.com).


End file.
